June And The Autobots
by daughter-of-Myou
Summary: June Darby's life used to be perfectly normal. A nurse and single mother, her biggest fear was that her teenage son would injure himself on his motorcycle. But that all changed when the bike in question transformed into a giant alien robot called Arcee.
1. The Science Fiction Club

June Darby couldn't believe her eyes. It wasn't too long ago that she'd last experienced that feeling of being utterly overwhelmed by the sight in front of her: only last night had she witnessed her son's motorcycle leap into the form of a gigantic alien robot and promptly wipe the floor with another of its kind – an evil one that had taken her hostage and threatened to kill her. But that feeling – terrifying as it was – was pretty insignificant compared to how she felt now in the Autobots' base.

She and her son dismounted the motorcycle in question, and an awkward grin creased Jack's face as the bike – Arcee – abruptly began to shift into her bipedal form. The transition was smooth and almost instantaneous; June felt slightly relieved to see that her son's otherworldly friend was smiling when the astounding process was complete. Four more ridiculously tall robots were approaching from various points across the command centre, each simply too big to be allowed, and she saw that they did not look especially happy to see her. The red and blue one in particular, the tallest of them all, was wearing an expression of something close to disappointment as he gazed down at the unfamiliar human.

"Guys," Jack said clearly, placing both hands on his mother's shoulders as he flicked his somewhat cautious stare from Autobot to Autobot. As she gawped up at the mechanical strangers, June noticed two humans among their number. She recognised them as her son's schoolmates; the foreign girl with pink streaks in her hair was perched fearlessly on the shoulder of the burly green alien, while the young spectacled boy was standing uncertainly next to the yellow one's heel. "This is my mother – say hi."

"June Darby," she introduced herself weakly, giving a tiny wave of the hand. The yellow robot mimicked the gesture, a strange buzzing sound escaping its throat, but his greeting was cut short when the white and amber one gave a short-tempered breath of disapproval.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked impatiently. June faltered, feeling her son's grip of her shoulders tense as he flinched. The speaker raised his narrow optics to stare accusingly at Arcee, who folded her arms behind the Darby family and assumed a defensive posture. "Is your hard-drive fragmented? What could possibly possess you to bring _another_ human here?"

Arcee shot him a stern look. "I had no choice, Ratchet," was her sharp reply. "Airachnid captured her; used her as bait to get to me. There didn't really seem like much point in hiding myself any longer after she'd already seen a Decepticon."

"Decepticon?" June repeated, confused, but her question went seemingly ignored.

"Arcee," the tallest robot began, looking crestfallen. His tone was sincere with quiet authority, but far from the voice of a dictator. June noticed that the others all paused in unison as he spoke; the respectful silence of friends rather than that of fearful underlings. "If you were in need of assistance, why did you not contact us and request for backup?"

"I tried," Arcee shrugged, uncomfortable for the first time since arriving back at base. A scowl then overcame her faceplates, and she shuddered. "But MECH saw to it that we were on our own."

"MECH again?" growled the green Autobot, as the stylish girl on his shoulder furrowed her brow. "I thought me and Breakdown already taught those fleshies a lesson."

Jack gave his mother's shoulders a quick squeeze, before stepping forward to stand between her and the strangers. "Look – what's done is done," he said, apologetic. "Arcee had no choice but to transform in front of my mom; that spider-bot would've torn us both to pieces if she hadn't stepped in to save us. But now that mom knows about you guys, I figured the 'Cons might come after her – and that _you'd_ probably want to know about that."

Intentionally or not, the latter part of his statement seemed to have been directed toward the group's apparent leader. The cavernous room in which the nine of them were gathered fell to guarded silence for a moment, as the red and blue Transformer appeared to consider something in careful thought. His crystalline optics found June's dark eyes and locked there; his stare was piercing, as though he could see directly into her soul – but she didn't feel afraid. There was nothing malevolent in his gaze – only concern and a subtle kindness that was eerily _human_ for a giant mechanical being.

As though coming to some sort of conclusion, he removed himself from the throng of strangers and began a slow approach toward Arcee and the Darbys. The floor trembled with each steady step he took, prompting June to instinctively reach for her son. The towering humanoid machine lowered himself onto one knee before them, doubling over so that the sincere plains of his face were almost on level with her own. She could see countless scratches and nicks in the metal guards that framed it; the helmet of a soldier who had fought more battles than he'd care to recount. His eyes, too – if she could call them that – were those of a soul weary of fighting.

"My name is Optimus Prime – and I believe we owe you an explanation," he said. "We five are Autobots; autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron. For the last three years, we have disguised ourselves among your world with the intent of protecting humankind from the Decepticon threat – defending against Decepticons such as the one who meant harm to you and your son. Several months ago; Jack, Miko and Rafael discovered us. The Decepticons began to target them, as Airachnid did with you. For that reason, I ordered Arcee to act as your son's guardian. In order to ensure the safety of both you humans and ourselves, we maintained an air of secrecy and remained anonymous in vehicular mode. I apologise for having concealed our identities from you for so long."

Unsure of how to respond, June watched in stunned silence as the green Autobot raised a hand so that it was on level with his shoulder. The girl – Miko – clambered onto his palm, securing herself as he stooped and lowered her carefully toward the ground. She hopped down onto the panelled floor next to Rafael, spinning lithely on her heel to face the Darbys with a beaming grin on her face. Raf nudged his glasses, smiling sheepishly at the adult human like a child caught cheating in a math test.

"Guardian…?" June repeated, raising her stare to re-establish eye contact with Optimus. She stepped out from behind her son, confidence slowly returning. "My son – Jack – was in danger, and you didn't feel it necessary to warn me about it? What about their parents – do _they_ know that their children are in danger?"

"Anonymity amongst humans is imperative for we Autobots," Optimus explained gravely. "I did not intend for these three to become involved in our war, and wish that no humans were put at risk for our sakes. However; your son and his friends have proved to be valuable assets in the war against the Decepticons. I assure you; their safety takes priority over all else in the heat of battle. I would risk my very spark to keep them safe from harm."

Despite the gravity of the situation, a breath of bemused laughter escaped June's lips before she could catch herself. "Forgive me – Optimus Prime, was it?" she said. "But I'm not sure I see how three human children could be 'valuable assets' to _you_."

Arcee shifted her weight to one leg and shrugged. "They've saved our motherboards on more than one occasion," she smirked. "There's still a lot we don't know about this world, but they help us get around that. Raf knows Earth tech like the back of his hand, Miko makes more team spirit than we know what to do with, and Jack's pretty good at coming up with plans in a pinch. You'd be surprised by how big a role they played in keeping the 'Cons from flooding Earth with undead warriors."

June raised an eyebrow at that, but chose not to challenge her. Instead, she returned her gaze to the Autobot commander as he rose slowly from his hunched crouch. He half-turned to face the other three, careful not to step on Miko as she skipped across the floor to stand by Jack's other side.

"Whadda we do, Optimus?" asked the green robot. Beside him, the yellow one nodded his head in silence and eagerly awaited their commander's response. Ratchet, meanwhile, gave a disapproving sigh and turned toward the advanced-looking computer monitors nearby.

Optimus opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden tug on June's sleeve diverted her attention from his reply. She dropped her gaze to see Miko grinning back at her, Raf already present by her side.

"Hiya," she began brightly. June made to politely greet her as Arcee stepped around them, but the bubbly teenager had already launched into an animated stream of speech before she could say anything. "I'm Miko – and that big green dude is my partner and best buddy, Bulkhead. He's the toughest 'Bot in this side of the solar system, way stronger than that bully Breakdown. So, you're Jack's mom? That's totally sweet! Do you have any embarrassing stories about him? How about baby pictures? I bet you've got a bunch of those! I recently transferred here from Japan – have you ever been there? You look like the type who likes to travel; I bet you've seen loads of places. Bulkhead took me to Greece once to stop the 'Cons from swiping an energon harvester, and-"

"Miko!" Jack hissed, crossing his arms. She faltered, interrupted mid-flow, and stared at him in surprise. He made a zipping motion across his lips with one hand, scowling.

June chuckled, able to read her son's embarrassment easily. "It's nice to meet you, Miko," she smiled, offering a hand. Miko perked back up at once and shook it enthusiastically, beaming.

After a hesitant pause, the youngest human stepped forward and gripped the straps of his backpack with both hands. "I'm Raf," he said, seeming a little embarrassed as he introduced himself. June knelt down in front of him, relieved to see that she was still taller than _someone_ around here. "Um…that's Bumblebee over there. He doesn't talk like the others do, but I can still understand what he says…don't know why, but I can. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Darby."

"Likewise – and please, call me June," she replied kindly. Raf gave a sweet smile, nodding. June then straightened up, raising an eyebrow in her son's direction. "You didn't tell me you had such wonderful friends, Jack. Why don't you invite them over for dinner sometime?"

"I'm not sure they like organic tofu, mom," muttered Jack.

A sudden surprised exclamation brought their polite chatter to an end; all four of them turned to see an expression of something close to horror splashed across Ratchet's faceplates. He was standing as though stunned, staring at the unnervingly-calm Optimus, as the other three Autobots attempted to hide their amused smiles. The humans exchanged confused glances, watching as the medic struggled for words.

"A-are you certain, Optimus?" he forced, attempting to regain his composure. "I mean… I'm more valuable to everyone where I am – why can't Arcee do it? After all, _she's_ Jack's guardian."

"Precisely, Ratchet," the commander replied steadily. "Arcee is _Jack's_ guardian. If the Decepticons are aware that Mrs. Darby knows of our existence, as I fear, she will require protection as well. Besides; Arcee informs me that your vehicular mode will raise fewer suspicions than ours would in her place of work."

"Oh, come now," the medic grimaced. "I am a scientist – not a babysitter."

June crossed her arms, suspicious, as the Autobot named Bumblebee let out a disapproving string of mechanical beeps and squawks.

"I know _that_, Bumblebee," Ratchet grumbled, casting the scout an exasperated look. "I _can_ tell an adult human from a juvenile one, you know. I was merely using the word as a… generic term."

Bulkhead performed a double-take after glancing over at the humans. He seemed to falter upon seeing June's scowl, prompting Arcee to raise an eyebrow. "Uh…Ratch?" he began, pointing with one thick finger. "I think she heard you."

The medic didn't seem particularly concerned by the prospect of offending a human, but was spared the trouble of further explaining himself by Optimus Prime. "Ratchet; for the time being, I am assigning you with the protection of June Darby," the Autobot commander began, his voice laced with quiet authority. The medic fell into sulky silence at once, dropping his gaze to the floor. "However… since you raise such strong objections with regard to the matter, the post will only be temporary until an alternate method of protection can be arranged. In the meantime, I will contact Agent Fowler and investigate into a more permanent means of human security."

Bulkhead let out a good-natured laugh, clapping Ratchet on the back. "Hang in there, buddy," he said, watching the medic stagger slightly from the impact. Arcee averted her gaze as Ratchet brushed him off irritably; wandering toward the humans as though she would rather observe his suffering from afar. Feeling rather insulted, June remained motionless and silent as the other Autobots began to disperse throughout the command centre. Miko pranced away after Bulkhead, while Raf gave an apologetic shrug before following Bumblebee toward the humans' living area.

"It's nothing personal, mom," Jack assured her, looking awkward as Arcee dropped into her motorcycle form and prepared to go out on patrol. June gave him an interrogatory look, wordlessly questioning how she seemed to already be on her _guardian's_ bad side. "He just… doesn't really like humans a whole lot."

"So I've noticed," June commented. She thought for a second, gave a small laugh, and then stared after the Japanese girl and her giant green partner. "That Miko seems like a nice girl, at least."

"Wha- _mom!_"


	2. Like Chalk And Cheese

"So…" June Darby began, sheepishly twisting and untwisting the hem of her blouse between slender fingers. She caught herself hesitating, and promptly dropped both arms to her sides as she stared up at the amber and white titan that stood before her. "You're a doctor…?"

"A medic, actually," Ratchet grumbled reluctantly. His metal hands were on his hips, or what June assumed to be hips on his relatively human-shaped body, one eyebrow raised so high that it was in danger of disappearing behind the orange crest on his forehead. He dwarfed her with ease – even more so than the decidedly feminine robot that her son's motorcycle had turned into had. At least Arcee had been polite enough to crouch down and cast her a friendly smile during formal introductions, rather than make her feel utterly out of place and insignificant.

Feeling awkward, June pried her eyes away from Ratchet to stare around the command centre. Aside from the two of them, the base was empty of life; the one named Optimus Prime had not long stepped out for a drive, and the other Autobots were out entertaining their respective human partners. June had wanted to join them – mostly to keep an eye on her son and make sure that his 'motorcycle' didn't get him into any trouble – but Ratchet had flat-out refused to leave the confines of the base. His denial to go outside had been so firm and ultimately final that she had chosen not to pursue the subject further for fear of irritating him – not that getting on his nerves was a particularly difficult feat in the first place, she had been quick to learn.

Though her attempt to make small talk with her grumpy robotic 'guardian' had left the cavernous room filled with an uncomfortable silence, June refused to give in to his obstinacy. She had worked with many a stubborn soul before, mostly reluctant patients in the emergency room, so why should this one be any different?

As Ratchet returned to tapping away at the keyboard beneath three high-tech computer monitors nearby, the human stepped a little closer to try and work out what he was doing. Craning her neck; she saw some kind of complex chemical formula displayed on the central screen. Reams of complicated equations quickly streamed across the two on either side, but she could make little sense of them despite her years of medical training. After several moments of staring intently at the screens, June realised that Ratchet was looking down at her with a questioning expression on his faceplates.

"Can I… help you with that?" she offered, in hope that he might warm to her after being offered assistance.

"I doubt it," the medic replied curtly. He made to return to his work, but apparently had second thoughts and gestured a jaded hand. "Some time ago; Optimus contracted a disease that was engineered by the Decepticons, as part of their biological warfare programme during the Great War. I'm analysing the formula of the cure that we managed to retrieve from Megatron."

"A disease?" June repeated, shocked. "But…you're machines. How can you catch _diseases_?"

Ratchet gave a heavy sigh. "I highly doubt that the subject of bio-mechanics is one that can be easily grasped by humans, Miss Darby," he said evasively. "Regardless; Rafael informs me that even the most basic of Earth computers can become infected with a virus once the right conditions are met. With that in mind, you needn't be so surprised."

"I suppose…" she mumbled. Despite the medic's assurance, however, she couldn't imagine the Autobot commander falling ill. He'd come across as so strong during their introduction – all of the Autobots had. It fascinated her that these mechanical beings could get sick just like humans could. They had also showed the capacity to feel emotion and pain as well; perhaps the two species were more alike than she'd initially thought? The prospect was…intriguing, to say the least.

As she wondered what other similarities might be shared by both human and Cybertronian, Ratchet rolled his optics and turned back to face the monitors. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" he asked, clearly losing grasp of whatever interest her queries had sparked.

"I finished my shift for today," smiled June. The cheeriness was swift to leave her expression, however, and she folded her arms. "I _was_ hoping to spend some time with my son… it seems like I keep missing him lately, even though I try so hard to be in the same place as him."

"Perhaps he's avoiding you," the medic suggested, as though wishing he could do the same.

June disregarded his comment, already brewing her next question. "Do you have a son?" she asked, wondering if he was speaking from experience. "Or any family, really – do Autobots have families?"

Ratchet let out a groan, beginning to suspect that getting any sort of work done was impossible with this persistent creature around. "By the AllSpark… don't you ever give up?" he hissed, towering over her again with both hands on his hips. "You know, I am attempting to decipher _complex_ code here – something which requires _undivided_ attention."

The human faltered, but somehow managed not to recoil away from him. "My mistake," she replied, dropping her gaze to the panelled floor.

The medic glowered at her for a moment longer, before making to resume his former task. As he watched the strings of equations and formulas scroll across the screens, he half expected June to launch another intrusive question at him – but she was perfectly silent. The lack of noise was almost unnerving; he glanced quickly down at her, as though to check that she was still standing there. She looked sullen – not pouty as Miko appeared whenever he told her to be quiet – but troubled nonetheless. It was a look that didn't suit her, one that made him remember that this human was a different sort to ones that he had grown used to dealing with. This one was an adult; one who had the potential to be reasoned with logically.

Now that he thought about it, Ratchet suspected that there were a lot of ways in which June differed from the children. Perhaps he might even be able to have a somewhat intelligent conversation with her. The prospect was no more grim than it was appealing, he realised.

"Autobots don't have families," he said abruptly, not shifting his gaze from the screens. June raised her stare, taken slightly by surprise. "At least, not in the sense you're probably thinking of."

"So…where do you come from?" she probed cautiously. "Who built you?"

Ratchet flinched, recalling how Rafael had asked a similar question on the children's first visit to the base. Unlike back then, however, he considered the enquiry for a moment, before abandoning the computers completely and rotating on the spot to face June. "Our homeworld is Cybertron, a planet located many light-years away from here," he began to explain. "On Cybertron exists – existed… a fount named the Well of All Sparks, from which all Autobots and Decepticons alike were born."

"Born?" repeated June.

"Created," the medic corrected himself with a wave of the hand, as though the wording was unimportant. "The AllSpark – an object of great power – carried out the will of our original creator by producing Cybertronian life deep within the Well. As such; we all derive from the same source, so to speak – but do not necessarily view each other as brethren, and so do not classify ourselves into a set 'family' hierarchy like that employed by humans. Do you understand?"

June gave a confident nod of the head, prompting Ratchet to study her with something close to mild appraisal on his faceplates. She shifted her weight onto one leg in preparation for a long discussion, wondering what else she could ask her guardian about.


	3. SynthEn

Author's note: spoiler warning for Transformers : Prime episodes 21 and 22

* * *

><p>Yes… a direct infusion of untested synthetic energon had definitely <em>not<em> been the brightest of ideas.

Ratchet lay with shuttered optics atop one of the examination tables in the Autobots' sickbay, carefully hooked up to an intravenous feed that was slowly but steadily reintroducing regular energon into his systems. It felt strange for him to be the wounded patient occupying the table, for a change, rather than the one administering treatment. A role reversal, of sorts – one that the medic wasn't particularly interested in acting out again.

He raised a heavy hand from the slab, joints stiff and clumsy, to brush against the splintered panelling of his chestplates. The veins of dark green fluid that trailed between their cracks had long dried from extended exposure to the air, flaking away beneath the metal of his fingertips. The contact stung sharply, succeeded by a dull ache that persisted even after the strength in his arm had ebbed to the point of dropping back onto the table.

Did he always used to feel this… _weak_? The difference between his current energy levels and those recorded while injected with the supposedly-completed formula certainly felt like an awful lot more than thirty-three percent. Perhaps it was simply because he was still recovering from the ordeal, but…

There was another reason, one that Ratchet was fully – and disgustedly – aware of. Keeping his optics closed, he tried not to picture – to remember – himself throwing Bulkhead through a wall not three megacycles ago. He tried not to remember passively flirting with Arcee, or the argument that had ensued between the two of them and Optimus shortly afterward; the argument he'd ended by tackling Bulkhead and speeding away in vehicle mode. And then, perhaps the most foolish part; attempting to fight Megatron alone. Yes, he'd managed to land a single, solitary punch on the Decepticon leader – but that had only been possible in conjunction with the element of surprise. Nonetheless, the match had quickly gone in Megatron's favour… and the Decepticons' fingertips had been within mere inches of obtaining the formula.

The whole ordeal was highly embarrassing… depressing. Ratchet wished with the whole of his spark that the memories of the day's events had left his systems with the synthetic energon. He felt like such a fool… how could he have been such an idiot – testing the formula on _himself_? If nothing else, it was unprofessional to the nth degree. He'd wanted so badly to help the others, and yet…

A faint sound brought Ratchet from his melancholic reverie. Though still muddled with fatigue; his audio processors detected light, quick footfalls approaching the sickbay. He recognised their pace – and groaned. He didn't want to deal with this right now. The noise soon came to an abrupt halt and silence retook its place, though he could sense instead a familiar anxious stare boring into the side of his head. Keeping his optics stubbornly shuttered, he waited for her to say something – but she didn't.

Eventually, Ratchet decided that he might as well get this over with quickly. He cracked open his optics with a sigh, surprised by how much the room's artificial light hurt their sensors, and peered down at the dark-haired human who was standing uneasily on the floor nearby. "Miss Darby," he said; a cautious greeting.

The unconcealed alarm in June's expression lifted somewhat, momentarily replaced by relief until anxiety descended over her features. "Ratchet," she replied, mirroring his tone. She was still dressed in teal from head to foot beneath the yellowish cardigan, most likely having come straight from her shift at the hospital. She then forced a smile, and made a meaningless gesture in the direction of the command centre. "Rafael told me that you weren't feeling so great… so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

"He told you, did he?" Ratchet muttered thickly. It was difficult to focus his attention on her, or on anything for that matter; Optimus' earlier suggestion that the medic slip into recharge for a while was suddenly very appealing.

June seemed to notice the lethargy in his speech, and her concern promptly doubled. "Did I… wake you, just now?" she asked in panicked tones.

The medic began to shake his head in attempt to calm her, but quickly stopped as the repeated movement made his processor spin. "We don't 'sleep' like you do," he explained, placing one hand on his midriff as though to steady himself. "Occasionally, we power down in recharge cycles… but that's not what I was doing when you arrived. Although… the notion is quite tempting now, I must admit."

June seemed to hesitate for a moment, before a slightly more natural smile warmed her gaze. She stepped forwards, linking both hands together behind her back. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" she asked. The question was a curious mix of professionalism and genuine sympathy; the voice of a nurse consoling her bedridden son. Ratchet wondered vaguely if this was the side of her that Jack was most used to seeing.

"Some peace and quiet might be nice," he replied, involuntarily mimicking her expression. Despite the fact that he hadn't spoken with the intention of insulting her, the medic was rather surprised to hear the congenial undertones of his own comment. June gave a nod of the head, and then softly walked around the examination table to inspect the intravenous pack.

Too tired to move his head and follow her with his optics, Ratchet soon found himself staring vacantly at a nearby wall. From somewhere in the depths of the base, he could hear the distant noises of the other Autobots moving their newfound energon cubes into the supply vault. The sound of their upbeat chattering as they worked would normally soothe his woes, but this time it only invoked a sense of guilt. He knew that they were probably talking about _him_; how good it was to have him back to normal, and how indebted to him they felt for leading them to a much-needed supply of energy and fuel. Did he really deserve their praise – their appreciation – after exhibiting such inexcusable behaviour?

"Miss Darby," he heard himself say, in much gloomier tones than before.

"Call me June," the human replied, frowning kindly at the back of his head. She'd spent enough time studying arrivals in the emergency ward to know when patients were feeling particularly sorry for themselves – and Ratchet was no different. It was rather amazing when she thought about it; that the dejected body language of a sixteen-plus-foot tall robot from a distant planet could be read in exactly the same way as a human's.

Ratchet hesitated, laboriously rotating his head in place just enough to meet her gaze. "June…" he complied, use of her first name making him feel even more uncomfortable. He had no qualms with speaking the children's first names because they were _children_ – but this one was an adult; and adults, no matter the species, deserved respect. "Doctor to nurse, may I ask for your advice on something?"

"Of course," June stated, sounding slightly surprised through her concern.

"I made… a very terrible mistake today," Ratchet began, lowering his gaze to the panelled flooring. "A foolish one that could have cost us the war… and me, my life. I did what I did only because I wanted to help the others – but it was thoughtless of me to act so impulsively. And in the end… my actions only hurt those whom I was trying to help."

June nodded, taking a step closer to his side. "Go on," she prompted gently.

The medic hitched a sharp breath of air through his vents, clenching both fists in frustration. "I don't know," he admitted in a growl. "I just…"

"…Want some advice," June finished, after watching him struggle for a moment. Ratchet fell to silence, and then expectantly raised his stare to meet her cool blue eyes. She folded her arms as she contemplated a reply, shifting her weight onto one leg with a gentle shrug. "Well… do you believe that you did the right thing?"

Ratchet gawped at her. "Of _course_ not!" he snapped, making to sit up but flinching from the tug of the intravenous cable. He clamped a hand to his wound, irritated. "What I did was reckless and stupid – why, even _Bulkhead_ would have had the sense to not inject himself with synthetic energon! I don't know what could have possibly come over me to act in such a thoughtless-"

"Wait… you did this to _yourself_?" she demanded, straightening up.

The medic faltered, shocked by the sudden anger in her voice. "In a way," he said.

Disappointment flared in the human's face as a grave silence fell once again within the Autobots' sickbay. Ratchet dropped his gaze, unable to withstand the fire of her stare. Strangely, somehow – her irritation made him feel a little better. He realised with a start that perhaps a reprimand was what he'd needed all along. Optimus had only made to comfort him when he'd awoken to find himself here, rather than give a lecture like he might have if the medic's injuries hadn't been so severe. He knew that he'd done wrong – but, so far, no one had chastised him for his actions. Maybe that was why he felt so guilty; because he knew full well that harm had been done, despite the others' attempts to continue on as though otherwise.

"You regret it, though, don't you?"

Ratchet blinked, raised his optics. June was wearing a sympathetic smile, having moved close enough to place a hand on the examination table's supports. Had she been several meters taller, she would have rested it instead on his forearm in a tender display of empathy. Her eyes were soft and caring, framed by liner and locks of jet black hair. The medic's fractured chestplates rose and fell in a single, lengthy cycle as he studied her organic features and considered the question.

"I do."

"Then there's nothing to worry about," she said. "Have to admit that I still don't know much about how Cybertronians' minds work, but… I believe Optimus and the others will forgive you, if they haven't already. You don't need to apologise to them… but maybe you should apologise to yourself."

The Autobot medic stared at her for a while, watching as warmth positively radiated from her person. Then, with an awkward sigh, he shuttered his optics and prepared to drift into recharge. _Humans_, he thought.


	4. Devil's Blood

Author's note: major spoiler warning for Transformers: Prime episode 23

* * *

><p>"Mom – it's urgent."<p>

June Darby inexpertly clamped her open mobile phone between her ear and shoulder, frowning as she traversed the bustling corridors of Jasper's emergency ward with a stack of medical files in her arms. A stethoscope was swinging wildly from her neck as she walked, but she paid it little heed as she backed into a half-open door that was marked with a paper 'STAFF ONLY' sign. She crossed the silent room in three quick strides, depositing the folders on the already overflowing desk beneath the window.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asked, placing one hand on her hip whilst reaching to support her phone with the other. "Is everything alright?"

"No, Raf's sick," replied the uneasy voice of her teenage son. June straightened, pulling the stethoscope free of her hair and sliding it into the open black bag that peered out from amongst the papers. "Megatron did something to him – we need you here, right now."

June grabbed the bag and turned on her heel, already heading back out into the corridor before a response had even begun to form in her mind. "What do you mean, 'sick'?" she questioned, waving a dismissive hand as a white-coated doctor pointed unhappily at her mobile in passing.

"I-I-I don't know," Jack's voice faltered, stuttering as it always did under pressure. "It's like he's got a fever or something – he won't wake up. Mom… you have to get here; you have to help him."

"I'm on my way," she said, skirting around four fellow members of the medical staff as they wheeled in a fresh patient on a stretcher. "But I don't know how soon I can be there. Can you have Ratchet set up one of his Bridge things in the garage for me?"

"Done. And… and mom?"

June paused, watching in silence as the doctors wheeled the motionless patient around a corner and out of sight.

"Please hurry."

Without another word, she flipped her mobile shut and stowed it away in the depths of her pocket. She headed straight for reception, dodging staff and supply trolleys along the way as she made a beeline for the building's main exit. The man seated at the counter just inside the entrance glanced up as she passed, startled to see her leaving.

"Heading out, June?" he asked, confused.

"Family emergency," she invented, neither glancing back at him nor slowing her pace. "My son's come off his motorcycle on the freeway. I should be back in an hour or so."

After halting momentarily to wait for the automatic door, June exited the hospital and started across the parking lot. Her white car was still sitting exactly where she'd left it – not that she expected it to have moved during her shift. She fished a set of keys from her pocket and ducked inside, tossing her bag onto the back seat and swiftly starting the ignition. There was no time to waste. She coaxed the car into drive and weaved between the surrounding stationary vehicles, pressing her weight against the accelerator as she pulled out onto the road.

As she drove, quickly but consistently below the legal speed limit, toward home; June couldn't help but play her son's words over and over in her head. Megatron… Ratchet had mentioned that name quite frequently in their many discussions back at the Autobot base. He was the leader of the Decepticons – Optimus' arch rival. He… did something to Rafael? She passed her son's workplace, which looked decidedly deserted for the hour, but didn't cast it so much as a second glance. What could an enormous, malicious machine from outer space possibly want with an innocent human child like Raf? What could he do to one – without killing it? That spider-bot's sharp fingers alone had looked to be lethal at even the slightest touch. June shuddered, veering onto a side street to avoid a red light.

The Darby home soon came into view, prompting June to greatly lower her speed. As soon as she was in range; she pushed a button on the dash, and the garage door began to creak into upward motion as she approached. To her slight surprise, a shimmering emerald-coloured GroundBridge was already waiting inside. It pulsed and swirled faintly; the sight was oddly reassuring, given the circumstances. Trust Ratchet to never miss a chance to flaunt his own scientific brilliance. She rolled the car into the ethereal mass, temporarily swallowed by a flare of light and sound before finding herself in the entrance tunnel of the Autobot base.

June wrenched on the handbrake and pushed open the driver's side door, not pausing to close it again as she clambered out. Jack was walking toward her, looking both frantic and relieved at the same time. Beyond his narrow shoulders, she spotted the giant amber and white medic hunched over something that she couldn't see in a back corner of the room.

"Mom," Jack began, reaching for his mother as she found her feet. "Thank-"

"Grab my bag," she cut across him, quickly striding through the command centre toward Ratchet's laboratory.

Miko and the Autobots, minus Optimus Prime and Bulkhead, were gathered fretfully around a human-sized table at the centre of the room. Rafael lay on his back atop its surface, silent and motionless even as a bright red scanning beam swept over his tiny body from an open panel on Ratchet's forearm. His skin was pale and clammy, stained by dark bruises around his eyes, chest rising and falling at irregular intervals. Someone had removed his glasses. He was hooked up to a piece of equipment that June somewhat recognised, one that was equipped with a monitor. Its readings, even from a distance, didn't look good.

Ratchet pushed a section of his forearm's panelling, and the beam flashed momentarily blue before disappearing. "Measuring the extent of the absorption should determine the proper course of treatment," he said, straightening up as June dashed to the tableside and quickly began to check the child's vitals.

"If I don't get this boy stabilised _now_," she began, turning gravely to face the medic after assessing that the situation was more dire than initially thought. "He will not leave this table alive – do you understand me?"

Ratchet seemed to falter in the heat of her urgent tone; he stepped back, allowing June room to manoeuvre as Jack made a rapid approach with her bag. She continued to work even as Bumblebee span away from the table with a screech and pummelled a frustrated fist into the nearby wall, paying little attention as Arcee moved to confront the scout. Instead; she drew the stethoscope back out from her bag and pressed it to Rafael's chest, listening to his ragged breaths with a clenched jaw. They sounded weak, shallow; laboured. She eased the chest-piece along his front, unhindered by the knowledge that her movements were suddenly the centre of attention in the laboratory. Ratchet soon turned away, however, as the voice of the Autobot leader abruptly filtered through a nearby communications monitor. Normally, June would be hanging on Optimus' every word – but not now.

She reached across Raf's pallid, weakened body and took gentle hold of his wrist; measuring his pulse as Bumblebee fretfully covered his own faceplates with both hands to her immediate right. After counting the feeble beats of Raf's stuttering heart for a moment, June grimly bowed her head; forcing herself to remain calm as the GroundBridge tunnel flared back to life. Heavy footfalls announced the arrival of Bulkhead; he haphazardly deposited a large and unfamiliar mechanical component on the floor once the greenish glow had faded again into nothingness, and began to approach Arcee.

"How is he?" the ex-Wrecker asked, his deep voice unnaturally loud in the silence. Unable to speak, it seemed; Arcee raised an anxious hand to her mouth in response and simply looked at June, who had resumed the monitoring of Raf's strained breathing with her stethoscope.

There's nothing I can do here, June thought fearfully. "Jack," she began all of a sudden, ripping the device from her ears to look her son directly in the eye. "Help me get Raf to the car; he's going to the emergency room."

"Nurse Darby," Ratchet cut, expression stressed but severe. "Your doctors won't be able to comprehend what's afflicting him – not without a _decade_ of study."

"I don't have time to argue," she snapped, flourishing both hands and turning her back on him as Jack took hold of the table's handles.

Ratchet similarly faced away, and began to tap at the keys beneath a monitor that was displaying some of Raf's vital statistics. "The effects of an energon blast on an Autobot can be devastating enough, but this is a _human_," he pressed, before falling silent to study the data for a second. He paused, speechless as slow realisation dawned in his processor. "I'm not getting any readings… how could I not have seen this?" The medic then whipped around, staring down at the small human boy who lay lifelessly on the table. "Rafael's been infected with _Dark_ Energon."

Unnerved, June dropped her gaze to Raf's ashen face. Though she was unfamiliar with the term, the others' horrified reactions told her all that she needed to know. Whatever the nature of the invading agent, it was very bad – and clearly getting worse by the minute. Ratchet dropped to one knee before the table, commencing a second brief scan of the anaemic child. Miko stepped closer to where her young friend laid dying, eyes defiantly glistening.

"If Dark Energon is devouring Raf from the inside out," the medic began, his choice of words prompting a swift flicker of fear in June's heart. "We must expel it, and fast – the only possible way I know."

He then straightened up and turned to the cluttered workbench, seizing a glass container from amongst the discarded alien tools.

"I need energon!"

June blinked, startled. "Wait," she interjected, flinging forth an urgent hand. "You said energon was _devastating_ to humans?"

"Under normal circumstances, quite," Ratchet replied swiftly. "But I am relying on the dark matter currently invading Rafael's body to meet it _head on_."

The nurse thought quickly for a split second, trying to contain her panic. "And what if it doesn't?" she demanded. Ratchet stared at her, as though surprised by her ability to question him under present circumstances. "You could kill him!"

As if in response, the tiny monitor that stood beside the table began to pulse orange; emitting an insistent staccato of high-pitched bleeps. "It's the only chance he has," he stated, hastily approaching his Cybertronian comrades. Bumblebee stepped forward to intercept him with a buzz of the vocal processors, assertively offering his right servo.

Without a word; Ratchet took firm hold of Bumblebee's wrist and pushed aside a tiny panel on his forearm, inserting into it the tube that was affixed to the glass canister. The scout winced as a sample of clear blue liquid began to rise inside the container, looking pleadingly at Ratchet. The medic caught his optic, his own faceplates barely managing to appear calm. Bumblebee then gave a determined nod of the head, forcing himself to ignore the unnerving sensation of energon rapidly draining from his systems.

Ratchet removed the tube from the scout's arm, and rushed across the laboratory to the tall cylindrical chamber where he conducted more thorough examinations of his patients. He inserted the energon-filled canister into a nearby power terminal, before gesturing adamantly through the opening. "I need him over here – now!" he barked.

Her heart in her mouth, June helped her son quickly wheel Raf into the chamber as Ratchet hurried across to yet another monitor. Once certain that he was safely inside, she dashed back out onto the lab; able to hear the medic's blunt fingers rapidly flying across the surface of the keypad. She came to a halt beside Jack, anxiously watching as the chamber door slid shut behind them. Ratchet placed a hand on the lever stationed beside the monitor, shuttering his optics in a fleeting moment of hesitation.

Please, he thought; let this work.

June watched him force the lever upward, startled as the ring-shaped light at the base of the chamber dulled to the sound of charging circuitry. Jack and Miko pressed their hands to the curved glass door; peering anxiously inside as Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead gathered uneasily behind them.

Without warning, the canister of energon began to glow – casting Ratchet's laboratory a strange shade of blue. Rafael's motionless body was completely swallowed up as the brightness swiftly intensified to fill the chamber, growing more and more brilliant to the point when the humans were forced to shield their eyes. A sudden burst of blinding white light swept through the lab – momentarily devouring everything in sight and causing the monitor's readings to spike noisily.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. June rushed inside as soon as the chamber's door hissed open, Jack and Miko hot on her heels. She took hold of Raf's narrow wrist as Bumblebee sank into an apprehensive crouch behind her son; gently pressing her fingers over his radial artery to measure his heartbeat. Rafael gave a tiny groan on her touch, eyes twitching beneath off-coloured lids. Ratchet glanced up at the sound, unmoving and tense as he waited for the nurse's verdict.

"Pulse rate is stabilising," June assessed breathlessly, unable to keep from smiling as a dead weight began to lift from her chest.

Raf cracked opened his eyes, exhaling sharply from the effort of blinking awake. He stared around for a moment, dazed and confused, rolling his tired gaze across his audience of seven. His eyes eventually came to rest upon the hunched yellow shape directly ahead, its outline invoking a fog of memories that dragged him closer to reality.

"Bee…?" he mumbled.

Bumblebee leaned forward, a relieved chord slipping through his faulty vocoder as he gazed mercifully down at the tiny human. Ratchet similarly let out a reassured sigh, relaxing his shoulders as Miko leaned across the table to press her cheek against Raf's forehead in a tearful hug. June placed a hand on her son's shoulder, watching him nod at Raf for a moment before raising her line of sight toward the medic.

Ratchet met her eye, inwardly surprised to see a mixture of approval and praise in her stare. There was something else there, too: perhaps he was only imagining it in the euphoria of the moment, but he could have sworn that there was a hint of muted guilt playing about her face – a silent apology for having questioned his methods. For once unconcerned by the fact that his faceplates were mirroring her smile, Ratchet gave a single nod of the head. Apology accepted.

"Optimus," he began, turning away as he opened a comlink channel to the currently-absent leader of the Autobots. "_We did it_."

"Help me prop him up," June said, as she and Jack began to wheel the table back into the main area of the laboratory. Once stationary; she carefully eased Raf into a sitting position, supporting him steadily as Jack and Miko inexpertly raised the head section of the table. He clung to her arms, grip weak but conscious, until she lowered him slowly back against the pillow. Though his being awake and responsive was definitely an improvement, he still looked far from healthy. More than anything, she noticed as she fished a small flashlight from her bag, he looked physically drained.

She shone the light into one of Raf's eyes, watching closely as his pupil constricted in involuntary response. There were no serious brain or nerve injuries, at least. Miko studied June's movements in mild fascination, but Jack made sure to keep a good few feet between himself and his mother. Bumblebee hovered over them, paying little attention to Arcee as she began to confront Bulkhead about something nearby.

"How do you feel?" June asked, switching sides to examine Raf's other eye.

He gave a weak shrug, smiling uncomfortably. "Okay… I guess," he mumbled. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and he gave a small cough to clear it.

"See if you can find him some water," June said, glancing meaningfully at Miko. The teenager gave a bold thumbs-up, before spinning on her heel and dashing away. June then returned her gaze to Rafael, surprised to see that he had closed his eyes again. His hands were balled into tiny fists by his sides, both corners of his mouth decidedly downturned. The nurse's expression softened somewhat, and she put the torch away. It looked as though he was trying not to cry. "What's wrong?"

She saw the muscles shift in his throat as he swallowed, saw the momentary flash of anxiety on his face as he reopened his eyes. "I… had a bad dream," he replied quietly. The act of speech sounded like hard work. June arched her eyebrows sympathetically, reaching forward to brush stray locks of damp brown hair from his forehead. "Someone was… watching me."

"Watching you?" she repeated kindly.

Raf nodded, shrinking back into the pillow as though he would rather not talk about it. June's concerned expression seemed to encourage him otherwise, however. "It was a man," he continued, frail voice still barely above a whisper. He looked fearful all of a sudden, dread emphasised by the tones of his still-pale skin. "A Decepticon, with… with purple eyes."

"Megatron?" asked Jack, stepping forward. Bumblebee made a strange growling sound, clenching a fist above the humans.

Raf shook his head feebly in reply, the motion seeming to calm the scout somewhat. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that escaped his lips was a fatigued breath as he sank further into the pillow.

June placed a hand on his rounded shoulder. "You should get some rest," she advised. Raf didn't complain – on the contrary; he closed both eyes and inclined his head toward her hand, as a shaken child would wordlessly seek support from a trusted adult. June gave a sad smile, circling her thumb over the material of his jumper in a reassuring way. "He can't hurt you here – you're safe. And if he tries to find you, Bumblebee will protect you – right?"

She looked up at the scout, who nodded confidently and gave a musical reply that June couldn't understand. Regardless, she returned her gaze to Raf's face – only slightly surprised to see that he had already fallen asleep.

"Will he be okay?" Jack inquired, trying and failing to catch his mother's eye.

June continued to study Rafael's clammy features, gently shifting another loose lock of hair that had flopped back down onto his forehead. "He'll be fine," she assured both him and Bumblebee, as she perched herself on the edge of the table. "Nothing will happen to this boy while he's under my care – that's a promise."

Bumblebee made another indecipherable sound, looking directly at the nurse. Though she didn't know his tongue, the expression on his faceplates said it all. _Thank you._

She nodded, smiling, and gave a relieved sigh as she watched the child's chest slowly rise and fall in rhythm. "Get well soon, Rafael."


	5. Tailwinds

Fear.

June Darby shuddered, doubled over with both arms folded tightly across her stomach as she found herself recalling something she had learned in her days as a medical student. Fear is only chemical signals, she told herself; an emotion conceived by the amygdala deep inside the brain in response to external threats and stimuli. It cannot physically harm the sufferer, nor can it directly kill them. Fear is individual between people, often developed in response to negative experiences during the developmental stage. Some people are afraid of spiders, others are afraid of guns. Some people are mortally afraid of the silliest things – things that can never harm them, like worms or darkness. But one fear that she suspected to lie at the core of every human being was the fear of death. The fear of total oblivion… the fear of the Void.

It was logical to be afraid of 'the end', she felt. Not even an hour ago, she had experienced it herself. She had managed to keep her head at the time; even as her beautiful car had been ripped out from under her, flung into the air amongst the whirling dust and pylons. She'd even managed a smile, after cheating death for the second time since meeting her son's extraordinary 'friends'. But now, sitting alone in the designated human area of the Autobots' base, she found herself unable to move. She could barely breathe – gripped by the knowledge that one false move back there, one tiny lapse in concentration, could have allowed that freak tornado to snatch her up and devour her whole. A single sheet of white metal had been her lone lifeline, the only thing separating her from death.

June glanced up, casting troubled eyes toward Ratchet. The Autobot medic was standing before the translucent monitors nearby; inspecting some complex, futuristic diagram or other. She studied his drawn faceplates, watched him scan the alien text on the display before him. He hadn't noticed her gaze. His expression was solemn, focused. Fearless.

Bumblebee had seemed pretty afraid back then, in that single instant when he and Rafael both thought they'd lost her to the storm. Then, she remembered when Raf had lain dying on the examination table in Ratchet's lab only this afternoon. The scout was afraid then, too, though not as much as Ratchet had been. She'd never seen the medic so worked up, so distressed – so terrified by the thought of being unable to do anything.

The memories puzzled her. Autobots were made of metal alloy, as Ratchet had put it. Circuits and gears, wires and actuators, mechanical systems, sparks. They didn't have amygdalae with which to process fear, nor did they have adrenaline to tell them to run or fight. So… how did they feel fear? _Why_ did they feel it? In her mind, machines were flawless creations in terms of emotion because they couldn't _feel_ anything. Computers were designed to perform tasks without bias; they were objective, resolute. They were 'pure', untainted by compromising thoughts. Fear was an inhibitor. It could turn the most level-headed, intellectual of humans into a raving lunatic, given the right conditions. Such a thing was entirely unnecessary in machines… so why…?

Seemingly able to sense that he was being watched, Ratchet suddenly flicked his optics to the side. He caught her staring; June gave a slight start, taken off-guard, and dropped her gaze to her knees. How much pensive wonder had she let him glance undisguised on her face? The thought was unsettling. She heard the gentle creaking of metal as he straightened up, felt the slight tremble though the raised platform as he took a single step back from the monitors.

"Nurse Dar-" be began, but soon broke off with a shake of the head; remembering her frequent request. He sighed, and placed the knuckles of one hand against his hip. "June?"

The teal-clad human raised her eyes to his in response, straightening from her hunched pose with a falsely bright expression.

Ratchet's optic ridges inclined slightly, faceplates softening into a rare sympathetic arrangement. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

June dropped her cheery façade after a moment, shoulders drooping. "I suppose," she replied distractedly. Her gaze fell upon the low table before the couch on which she perched, tracing the videogame controllers that lay abandoned atop its surface.

"You suppose?" Ratchet repeated, tone guarded and cautious. "Forgive me for saying so, but… today has been a rather eventful one, even by our usual standards. I would have thought that you'd have fallen onto one side or other of the proverbial fence by now, all things considered."

"It's been a long day," she admitted tiredly. "I've just got a lot on my mind, is all."

The medic paused for a moment to study her dejected posture. "Such as?"

"You mean beside the obvious?"

"Well, I… yes. Beside the obvious."

June let out her breath in something that was neither sigh nor laugh, and rose smoothly to her feet. She crossed to the edge of the raised platform, resting her elbows on its railing. "Can Cybertronians feel fear?" she asked.

Ratchet thought for a second. "We experience a psychosomatic phenomenon comprised of electrical signals in response to stimuli that are perceived as threatening," he explained. "It could be interpreted as 'fear', yes."

"Why?"

The medic faltered, faceplates drawing a confused blank. "I'm sorry?"

June gestured aimlessly to the side. "It's unnecessary," she said. "You're robots – no offence – you don't _need_ to feel fear. You don't need to feel _anything_. Emotions compromise logic. They serve no purpose in beings like you."

"Would you prefer it if we wandered about as mindless drones, incapable of thinking for ourselves?" Ratchet asked, sceptical.

"Well, no… but that's not what I said," the nurse replied. "Thought and emotion are two different things."

"Are they?"

Then was June's turn to hesitate. She watched in confused silence as Ratchet stepped forward; he approached the platform on which she stood at a reflective pace, as though taking a moment to formulate a more detailed answer.

"I do not believe that the two concepts are entirely unrelated," he began, looking her straight in the eye as he came to a halt before the platform. "Neither can be measured, or experienced by anyone other than the one in whom they originate. They cannot be seen, touched, heard, tasted or smelled – they are internal processes that stem as a result of experiencing external stimuli, in response to or analysis of a given situation. Neither can exist without some sort of prompt, and the two are often interlinked with one another: it's very rare for a thought to not have some kind of emotional quality associated with it, even if that quality is indifference."

"The same can be argued of anything from that perspective," June said, almost amused by his soliloquy. Ratchet raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue. "There is a theory that humans are always doing something, even when 'doing nothing'. In other words; people who claim to be sitting still and not doing anything are, in fact, _sitting still_ – and, therefore, doing. They are also breathing, involuntarily of course, as well as many other automatic processes. It just depends on how literally you want to take things. In what you said, from that point of view; indifference would be the default emotion for every living creature."

"But if that were the case," Ratchet replied thoughtfully. "Couldn't it also be applied to machines that are not of Cybertronian origin? Indifference, to my understanding, means 'to not feel'. One who is indifferent shows no interest, concern or sympathy toward anything – a quality I have observed in all human-made machines."

"Yes – but it's not a sentient decision," June reasoned.

She suddenly seemed to catch herself, startled as though having heard another speak complete nonsense. Ratchet perplexedly watched her smile in wonder toward the distant ceiling; she leaned back on her heels, both hands gripping the rail to support her weight as she took a steadying breath.

"Listen to us," she began in a quiet laugh. "I'm almost glad Jack's not here to watch me have such a serious philosophical discussion. He might not recognise me."

The medic similarly restored his usual air, drawing himself up importantly. "Indeed," he said. "Though… it certainly makes for a welcome change of pace to be able to sincerely debate such trivialities. Typically, the others are more interested in mindless pastimes than intellectual conversation… like watching perfectly good vehicles smash into each other, or building paper volcanoes."

June's expression fell all of a sudden, chest beginning to tighten again. "Volcanoes…" she repeated, dropping her gaze to the floor.

Ratchet realised his mistake at once, and let both arms fall limp to his sides. Of course… how topical. "I'm sure the others will be fine," he assured quietly, more to himself than the nurse. Subconsciously, almost, he cast a glance over his shoulder at the nearby monitors. They were worryingly void of commlink channels, though his fellow Autobots' remote life signals remained strong. "Arcee and the others will return shortly with Optimus from the earthquake-damaged zone. We just have to be… patient."

The nurse gave a distracted smile, beginning to twist the hem of her pale cardigan between her fingers. "Is this how you always feel?" she asked, uncertain. "Unable to do anything… forced to wait, anxious but safe on the sidelines, as they risk life and limb on a daily basis?"

"It is," muttered Ratchet. He gave a heavy sigh, turning wearily to head back toward the monitors. A part of him began to wish, as he apprehensively tapped a few keys on the wide touchpad beneath the screens, that Cybertronians really did conform to June's suggestion. The helplessness was wretched, unsettling; a familiar adversary writhing deep within the medic's spark. He'd give anything to abandon emotion at times like these. She was right – emotion did indeed compromise logic. "It is indeed."


End file.
